


Meeting Miss Morstan

by specificskillset



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Female Character of Color, Fluff, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:19:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specificskillset/pseuds/specificskillset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan and Sherlock first met Mary Morstan on a case, in September...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Miss Morstan

Joan and Sherlock first met Mary Morstan on a case, in September. The details were fuzzy now – it had been one that Sherlock had mostly handled – but Joan remembered a father and a fortune. Sherlock had been especially challenged by it, and elated when it was finished. Joan would be lying if she said she hadn’t particularly noticed Mary, but she was logical and respectful enough to understand that a wedding ring meant that she should steer her thoughts away, and so she did.

  
She doesn’t date much. She’s not good at it, finds first dates awkward and uncomfortable. She makes a few efforts, but they go badly. To be honest, she’s glad when Sherlock inevitably ends up either interrupting them or causing her to cancel a second.

  
Joan met Mary for the second time at a Christmas party of a mutual friend (because, as much as Sherlock likes to pretend, she does have other friends). Mary's shy at first, but Joan knows how to talk to people (she’s even better at it when she wants to talk to them as badly as she does Mary) and they get along well. Joan talks about cases, and Sherlock, and tries to shake the habit of calling him her client. Mary talks about her divorce, and there’s a hint, Joan’s sure, Sherlock taught her to notice these things, there’s a hint of attraction. She doesn’t mean to act on it, but suddenly she’s smiling and she’s hardly spoken to anyone else all night, and she’s leaving with a new contact on her phone and a smile on her face.

  
Mary calls first, at three-thirty in the afternoon, while Joan’s watching from the mirror as Sherlock questions a suspect. They organize to meet for lunch at a café in the city that Mary likes. Sherlock finds her by the coffee machine ten minutes later, too proud of himself to bother to ask questions, and she doesn’t really mind.  
Joan cancels the first date and hates herself . Sherlock’s in one of his moods, where he doesn’t talk except to swear to himself, obsesses over old cases, and hires his first prostitute in months. Alfredo offers to watch him. Joan refuses and hates herself for not trusting him just enough. She waits for a relapse, and hates herself, because she knows how strong Sherlock really is. She goes into the bathroom and calls Mary with a hundred apologies on her lips and hates herself.  
Mary doesn’t mind and says ‘next time’ with a smile in her voice.

  
They try again two weeks later, at the same café, same day, same time. Joan’s early, not willing to do anything to sabotage herself this time. Mary’s on time, blonde hair tumbling just past her shoulders and glinting in the sun. They talk and laugh and Joan apologizes again. Mary orders a Caesar salad and a medium flat white with two sugars. Joan, for all her newfound skills of memory and deduction, cannot remember what she herself ate.

  
They meet each other for a coffee a few days later, and walk through Central Park. Joan spends a lot of time trying not to stare at the other woman. Then she notices that the other woman is trying very hard to do the same and she can’t help smiling just a little at how awkward and comfortable it feels, all at the same time.  
They sit at a bench in the shade. They’re quiet for a moment until Joan begins to ask gentle questions. Mary answers without hesitation, meeting Joan’s eyes as her left foot twists around the back of her other leg. She’s reserved. Happy, but reserved. Joan asks about her job - she’d mentioned being a volunteer at the party. Mary talks about a man she’d met in the homeless shelter she’d worked at who’d taught her card tricks, and the two teenage girls who came to help out there every weekend, and how frustrating job hunting is, now that her source of income has cheated on and left her. Joan isn’t sure if she should attempt comfort, but Mary decides for her, smiling wryly.  
‘He’s a cheat. I drunk too much and lied to him about being a lesbian,’ She shrugs. ‘We were never close. I don’t think we even liked each other back when we got married,’  
She seems eager to change the subject back, and so they exchange first job stories – Joan at a fruit shop down the road from her house, Mary at a bookstore her uncle had owned. Mary asks if Joan’s still consulting with the police and slowly, even more gently than Joan had been, begins to ask questions.  
They don’t leave until four in the afternoon, Mary reaching out to gently grasp Joan’s hand as she says she has to go. She’s apologetic and sad and Joan thinks about kissing her. It doesn’t happen.

  
Sherlock doesn’t meet Mary, properly, not as a client, until January, after four more dates and one night at Mary’s house. He knows about them, of course he knows, but he ignores it. Whether it’s because he’s jealous, or trying to respect her, or following her lead, Joan’s not quite sure. She doesn’t talk about Mary much. It’s not that she’s ashamed of herself, she’s been out of the closet for years now. Besides, Sherlock figured out her bisexuality quite early on. And it’s not that she’s ashamed of Mary, no, she thinks the world of Mary.  
It’s more that she’s not quite sure how Mary, sweet, kind Mary, fits into her other life of criminals and murder. And she doesn’t like to think of Mary that way, as pure or innocent, she knows its not fair. But she knows Mary would be horrified at the kind of things that make up Joan’s life now, and she’s not quite sure how to approach the matter.

  
Sherlock takes the decision out of her hands, calling Mary and inviting her to dinner at a restaurant he knows Joan likes. Of course, he doesn’t tell Joan that he’s done this until the morning of.  
‘I’ve arranged to meet Miss Morstan tonight,’ he says as he puts his coat on in the hall, on their way to the station. ‘Officially, I mean, as your partner.’ He frowns for a moment. ‘Girlfriend? Which do you prefer?’  
Joan’s still a little taken aback. ‘Either’s fine,’ she murmurs.  
’You’re not upset, I hope?’  
She shakes her head and follows him into the taxi.

The case that day was a robbery and murder, a man in his eighties had been shot while his twenty year old mistress was sleeping in the next room. His wife has an apparently unbreakable alibi, caught on video at the local convenience store during the estimated time of the shooting. Sherlock was still somehow convinced that she was guilty.  
He was completely immersed by lunchtime, showing all signs of what Joan had taken to calling ‘case brain’. ‘Case brain’ only affected him during certain, more difficult, cases, and it occurred when he became so involved that he forgot, among other things, his manners, his hygiene and food. And it was a severe case this time. Joan leaves at five, fully expecting not to see him until she returned home that night.

  
It’s a testament to their relationship that he still appears, at eight sharp, to reintroduce himself to Mary Morstan.  
‘Pleasure to see you again, Miss Morstan,’ he says as he approached, catching them at the door and glancing with a smile at Joan’s pleased expression.  
‘And you, Mr Holmes.’  
When they get in, Sherlock holds out their seats, Mary first, then Joan. Mary smiles at the formality.

  
Sherlock catches a taxi home, with the blunt expectation that Joan won’t join him, and promises to leave some urine in her bedroom in the morning (an admission Mary takes with surprising ease). And so Joan spends the night at Mary’s house for a second time. It’s not until she’s laughing as Mary tries to teach her French at three in the morning that she realises she hasn’t checked on Sherlock once.  
She doesn’t check her phone until the morning, one arm still wrapped comfortably around Mary, blonde hair tickling her wrist.  
The first message reads: Meet me at the station at 11am. The second simply says :). Joan smiles and kisses Mary on the forehead before drifting back to sleep.

Despite the seemingly pleasant evening out, Sherlock continues to pointedly not mention Mary. He’s bored, and distant, having been proved right on the last murder case (his first impression had been wrong – the mistress was to blame), and unable to find anything new to take his interest. This makes the quietness even more unusual , as he tends to talk to himself in these moods, making puzzles for himself, and complain to Joan about his boredom.

  
It’s not till a week and a half, and one more night at Mary’s, later, that they can ‘address the issue’, as Sherlock puts it.  
‘I understand that I cannot monopolise your company. I genuinely like Miss Morstan and wish you both the best together. However, I…’ He trails off awkwardly and begins to pace in front of his key rack.  
Joan waits until he stops and quickly comes to kneel in front of her.  
‘I don’t want to lose you, Watson.’  
‘Sherlock-‘ He waves a hand awkwardly and she stops. He doesn’t look her in the eye as he continues.  
‘Please, Joan… I appreciate your company, and your help. I don’t mean to be selfish, this isn’t an attempt to prevent you from seeing Miss Morstan, I just…needed you to know that.’  
‘Sherlock...’ She puts a gentle hand on his as it rests on her knee. She’s good at this comfort thing, she always has been, but she struggles to find the words. ‘I won’t leave you,’ His eyes flick upwards to meet hers. ‘I like Mary, spending time with her, and this, you and me, are going to have to change. But we’ll still be us.’  
He looks hopeful.  
‘I knew, I mean, I know that you wouldn’t leave for good, I understand how these things work, but I.’ He stops short and glances away. ‘Perhaps I am feeling a little selfish.’  
Joan smiles and stands, pulling him up. They spend the night eating takeout Chinese, as he tests her attentiveness with their multiple screens.

  
They do change. Not all at once, just little bit by little bit. Joan has two drawers and a bathroom cupboard at Mary’s house. She comes to crime scenes with Sherlock most days still, even if he has to go out of his way to pick her up, but there are times when it simply doesn’t work. He knows she likes taking the same days off as Mary, and he doesn’t call on those days unless something big comes up. Mary brings Joan coffee and a donut at the station on her lunch break and they spend that half hour in the courtyard. Sherlock calls her when he’s making inquiries and always gives her the choice to join him.

  
Joan conducts her first interrogation in February, on a stage actress involved in a drug ring. Sherlock watches like a hawk. Mary’s on her lunch break and finds him behind the glass. They stand together until Joan finishes, the actress crying and giving names as fast as she can. Their eyes meet for a moment and they break into smiles.  
Joan walks out, with pride in every step, and Mary hugs her fiercely. Sherlock’s is more awkward, reserved, but it is a hug nonetheless, and whispers ‘Well done, Watson,’ in her ear.  
The case is cracked completely open by two o’clock the next day. Sherlock takes them both out to dinner to celebrate.

  
Joan starts planning to move in with Mary at the beginning of May. Sherlock notices, and however much he wants to be unselfish, he still sulks a little. Joan doesn’t mind, fully expected as it is.  
He still helps her pack. He doesn’t say much at all for the first day, and Joan doesn’t push it (much). He’s polite to Mary when she brings lunch and a pair of extra hands and even makes her laugh a few times. She decides to stay the night, after some gentle prodding on Joan’s part. Sherlock still insists that Joan practice, giving her photos of crime scenes and bits of information and basically making her play glorified I Spy. Mary reads, and glances up now and then. Joan doesn’t complain and Sherlock doesn’t say anything but a goodnight as they go upstairs with glasses of wine. Joan thinks he even attempted a smile.  
By noon the next day, he’s cheerful. There are moments, flashes of expression, but Joan ever only catches a glimpse of them before they change.

  
When the car is packed (it takes longer than expected; Joan accumulated more than she’d thought) Mary gives Sherlock a hug. Taken aback, but obviously pleased, he hugs her back.  
‘I’ll see you soon,’  
‘I hope so, Mary,’  
She turns and kisses Joan quickly.  
‘You coming?’  
‘Can I have a sec?’ Mary glances back at Sherlock and smiles.  
‘Sure. I’ll be in the car,’ She kisses Joan again, on the cheek this time, before leaving.  
‘I shall see you on Monday, Watson, I presume?’  
Joan pauses for a moment, wondering why Monday before it hits her.  
‘Oh. Your AA meeting.’  
‘Yes. I thought I’d…go. With you.’  
Joan holds back a smile.  
‘Monday sounds good.’  
‘Okay.’  
He gives her a quick hug and steps back.  
‘Goodbye, Watson.’  
‘Goodbye, Sherlock.’

  
Mary, as promised, is waiting in the car.  
‘All good?’ She asks as Joan does up her seatbelt. Joan looks at her and smiles.  
‘Yeah. Yeah, it’s all good.’  
Mary reaches over and grabs her hand, holding it between their seats. She doesn’t let go until they reach their street.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you, as usual, to my beautiful beta, Meledy (mybrainandstuff on Tumblr) <3


End file.
